Regina
by leshipper
Summary: "One of the hardest decisions you'll ever face in life is choosing to walk away or try harder. I didn't get to face that decision though, it was ripped away from my hands before I could but I know it didn't matter which one I chose because the end would still be the same." Swan Queen. Disclaimer is on profile. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

"I was fifteen the first time I put a cigarette to my mouth and I thought I'd never have the desire for nicotine again. I didn't really understand how someone could be drawn so strongly to something that could hurt them, but after kissing her for the first time, I think I get it.

We were meant to be, me and her. I really think we were but we lost it somehow and that eats me alive at night. I love her and she became a ghost inside me but that's how I keep her alive, I suppose. That's how anyone who lost a loved one keeps them alive isn't it?

I'll never get over her, I know that because… We didn't date. Technically, she wasn't an ex-girlfriend but… she was an ex-something, an ex-maybe, an ex-almost and almost is the worst way to love someone. You never forget your almost. I know she almost loved me. I could see it in her eyes every time she looked at me when she thought I wasn't looking. I was always looking at her though.

I just know that what I felt wasn't one-sided. She felt something for me too, maybe not exactly what I felt – and I don't even know what the hell that was – but it was definitely something. I knew her well enough to know she never loved me though and somehow I'm okay with that.

She told me not to leave her and I wish I knew how to not have done it. She doesn't even cross my mind anymore to be honest, she lives in it and that's both a blessing and a curse because she was my turning point and I missed the turn. I think about our last kiss a lot. How it felt. The way she tasted. How she pushed forward when I tried to pull back.

One of the hardest decisions you'll ever face in life is choosing to walk away or try harder. I didn't get to face that decision though, it was ripped away from my hands before I could but I know it didn't matter which one I chose because the end would still be the same.

She died from medication but it killed all the pain. She died and that's a load of shit but I'm the one tossing and turning in my sheets trying to forget the sweet words she poured down my throat and I think I'm drowning in them. I'm the one tossing and turning and she's at rest and that's just fucked up.

When someone dies it's not just their life that's affected, it's that of everyone who knew them at one point or another and I'm going to be affected by her death until the day I, myself, die.

There was a time when, for some reason, my demons were quiet when she was around but now my demons look like her sometimes and I welcome them. I let her become my happiness somewhere along our almost and that's where I went wrong because I used to try and silence my demons and now I feel like hugging them.

I still remember the first day I met her and the weeks after that. Back then, she was my boat, I was her sea and we'd float. Not perfectly, we were never perfect. But… delicately, never pushing, just… going.

I've been acting like I'm strong for months now but the truth is, I've been losing ground. I shrug it off though because I know that when you hit the bottom, your only way is up. I just didn't know the bottom was so far down.

My mouth turned to stone and shattered when I heard the news. I froze for what feels like hours, I couldn't even console Henry, I couldn't do anything besides trying to wrap my hazy mind around the news.

I can't escape the past creeping up inside me and reminding me that I can never bring her back. I need her but I know it'll never happen again.

There was a day her name didn't make me smile anymore, it just made tears well up in my eyes and yet I had to keep hearing it, I had to keep hearing Henry say it as he dreamed of a world where she was still with him, with us.

We were never in love. I love her but I was never in love with her and she was never in love with me but Gods, we could have been. With some more time, we could have been but time was violently ripped away from us.

I guess I just wanted her to tell me what she thought about when she couldn't fall asleep at night but she never did and I'll never know why either.

I feel like I'll never get over her and I probably won't. This time, last year, everything was so different. Better. I might not have her in my arms but I could see her without having to close my eyes. I think I was blind before I met her. My heart was blind and she stopped that blindness. She made me smile so hard that my cheeks hurt and now it's my eyes that hurt from crying.

I spoiled her, I was faithful to her and I trusted her but still she didn't remain mine and I tried to forget her after that but I think she grew roots around my ribcage and sprouted flowers below my collarbones. I plucked their petals every day but now I'm a garden of her.

Knowing someone isn't coming back doesn't mean you ever stop waiting and I'm finding that out the hard way because I'm still hoping it's her whenever someone knocks on the door. I think my dad has picked up on that because he always calls instead of knocking.

While I sleep, I dream of her and when I wake up, I long to hold her and it hurts like hell to know it will never happen again.

The risk I took with her was calculated but man, am I bad at math. I think though, that I'm a bit lucky for having had something that made saying goodbye so hard.

So, Regina… thank you. Wherever you are, whatever you are: rotting bones underground, an angel watching over me up in heaven, a demon looking up at me next to Satan in hell, another life on Earth with no memories of me. Thank you for gracing my life with your presence and for adding the measure of your soul to my existence. Know that until my death in the earliest, you won't be forgotten.

Goodbye, Regina, my almost and forever."


	2. Chapter 2

"Whenever I talked about the future you always tried to change the subject and it hurt because I thought you couldn't see a future where we were together, a future I was in for you.

But you're dead now and I realize you weren't changing the subject because you couldn't see me in your future, you were changing the subject because you couldn't see me in your future knowing one day I wouldn't be a part of it anymore. You couldn't imagine a future where we were happy together, where we gave Henry a brother or a sister or even both and then it ending abruptly.

I get that now because even though you're the one who had that worry, I'm the one living in it. I'm the one living without you, without our future, I'm the one living with only a tombstone with your name on it and the sentence "Wish you were here". It hurts. It hurts more than when you changed the subject.

I think of you and the future we could have but didn't and my heart aches, my eyes sting from the tears and my hands tremble, still somewhat, somehow, remembering your silhouette, the outlines of your body, your curves and your touch.

God, it hurts.

Your memory hurts.

I think of you still. Even when there's probably more alcohol in my veins then blood, even when there's more smoke in my lungs than air, even when there's more open skin on my wounded knuckles than closed skin, even when the pills slip past my tongue, down my throat and I think for a fleeting second that in my dreams I'll find peace of your beautiful face but see only that same face, even I wish beyond anything I could stop thinking of you at free will, I fail.

I anger myself at my lack of power against your memory while at the same time hoping beyond hope that that same power will never be a part of me for I do not know what I would at times if it weren't for your memory.

At times, I think perhaps one more bottle of whiskey would be fine but a whisper of your voice in my head pleads me otherwise.

At times, I think perhaps smoking isn't enough, perhaps something stronger that goes not on my lips but my veins would be better but a whisper of your voice in my head pleads me otherwise.

I fear for the day I will no longer have the memory of the sound of your voice in my head because another voice would not be as effective in preventing me from accomplishing these things as yours is.

Do not think I consider suicide at the lack of you for I do not.

I consider moments, be them minutes or hours where I can forget I will never again have you in my arms, where I can forget I will never again have your fingers running through my hair, where I can forget I will never again have your lips touch my skin, where I can forget I will never again have you.

I consider those moments because the lack of them hurts even if at the same time it keeps me sane.

My love for you was never expressed, a love left unshown for fear of its rejection and although I could show you affection, although I could touch you, my love could not afraid of what it would say. It hurt to not be able to let it speak, it pained me every day since its arrival in my body for you to let it be free and do as it may, speak as it wished.

But the most painful thing about unexpressed love is that it never fades away.

And mine never will. Until my death in the earliest my love for you will haunt me, remind me of its lack of time to express itself to you because of my lack of courage.

The tears in my eyes right now, the bottle before me, slowly but surely loosing liquid in favor of placing it on my mouth, the lit cigarette between my fingers burning them because of the large amount of time I choose to neglect it, all of these things remind me along my unexpressed love of my lack of courage, of my lack of willpower to show you what I feel while I still could show you, while your lungs could still fill with breath, while your heart could still pump blood, while your eyes could still sparkle at the sight of our son.

I ache and I hurt and I burn from inside and my heart still refuses to forget the day I last saw your body while it was still warm and the day I last saw your body before the casket closed.

My eyes refuse to seize the tears from falling and my mouth refuses to seize its drinking although I myself cannot stop it from doing so.

I know though that when this bottle bares no more liquid in it that I will refrain from seeking another for the whisper of your voice in my head is pleading with me to stop and I have yet to reach three quarters of it.

People tend to leave my life.

It's expected from them by this point, at least to me.

I never expected you to do it though.

I suppose that's why it took your departure for me to realize why the future was something you refrained from speaking about.

People tend to leave my life but you weren't just people, you were my person.

I guess the key word in that sentence is 'were'."


End file.
